The Sigmund Files
by xXWeaponPrimeXx
Summary: Carnage is the most ruthless drill instructor Cobra has at its disposal. When troubling recruits are too valuable to simply be put down, Cobra calls on their drill instructor. Will he bring them back into line, or will they wind up in body bags? Several OCs. Rated M for safety.
1. Asset Managment

**Location:** Chilean Terror Drome, Chile

**Longitude:** [██████]

**Latitude:** [██████]

**Altitude:** [██████]

**Personnel: **

1,600 Military

400 Support

1,000 Technical (Temporary)

10 Command

A monument to Cobra's power. That's what Cobra Commander had called his newest Terror Drome. The other Dromes were cheap, prefabricated and transportable. But this, this was a bulwark of Cobra authority, an immovable ziggurat of Cobra's might. The first step to true world domination.

The Commander's speech was quite rousing, but having it repeated every hour on the hour throughout the Drome caused it to lose some of its pull. Teams of Techno-Vipers stalked the corridors, with long lists of new things to be added. Many sections were incomplete; the walls open as the multitudes of construction teams worked day and night on wiring, plumbing and security systems to bring everything to operational standards.

"Hey Myers! Where you off to in such a hurry?" Myers stopped and looked around, snapped from his thoughts about his current home. He swore he'd just heard his n-

"Up here." Myers looked up and jumped back, dropping his stack of files. A dirty, smiling face peered down at him from the ceiling.

"Dammit Kurt!" he hissed as he bent down to pick up the files. "You scared the crap outta me!" The Techno-Viper smiled as he extricated himself from the ceiling and dropped to the ground to help his friend.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you… much." he said as he help scrape up all the paperwork.

"Man, I hope you didn't get these mixed up. The Baroness will kill me if they're all out of order." He mumbled as he absently checked and made sure none of the files had been scrambled.

"I said I'm sorry. Hey, if she doesn't kill you, you wanna have lunch later?"

* * *

The elevator doors opened to a pristine corridor. One of the first completed sections, its floors had been replaced with polished marble and the walls with brushed titanium. Unlike the rest of the facility, this wing was quiet. Gone were the ever-present sounds of construction and shouts as the work crews assembled Cobra Commander's newest vision. Myers swallowed the lump of fear in his throat and stepped into the corridor. His boots echoed loudly on the floor as he approached the large wooden doors at the far end from the elevator. When he was but a few feet from the wooden doors, the walls opened and armed Vipers emerged, aiming their weapons.

"Halt."

Myers froze at the barked command. He felt a bead of sweat as it dripped down his temple. He dared not move.

"Name and purpose?"

"M-Myers, Richard. Tele-Viper. Delivery of files for the Baroness." Myers said nervously.

"Hand." Myers swallowed and held out his free hand, palm up. One of the two Vipers moved forward and lowered his weapon to run a hand-held scanner over his palm before nodding to the other.

"Proceed." A Viper said, as they both disappeared into their hidden alcoves and the wall became a flush surface once more. Myers' stood still for a moment, and exhaled slowly before placing his hand on the door and opening it slowly.

The Baroness's chambers were large and a separate module of the rest of the complex, complete with their own power and life support. Directly across from the entrance, was a large oak desk, and seated behind it was the Baroness, busy looking over holographic display which was projected from a small inlet on her desk.

"Pardon the interruption, ma'am." he said sheepishly. Without looking up, Baroness extended her hand and curled a finger at him, beckoning him closer.

"I assure you I don't bite." She said. "What have you got for me?" The Tele-Viper quickly hurried to her desk and held out the stack of files. She took the top one and peeled her attention from the display long enough to look it over.

"These just came in from the Commander, ma'am. " He said. "H-He'd like you to look them over and decided what should be done w-with them."

The Baroness looked up from the file and peered at the stack Myers held. She sneered and replaced the file she'd been looking at. She returned her gaze to the holographic display. Myers stood there for a moment, before the Baroness looked back at him.

"Set them down. Unless your new position with Cobra is as a filing cabinet." She said. Myers nodded and set the files carefully on her desk.

"Sorry ma'am." He said. She waved a dismissive hand in his direction, not even deigning to give him her full attention once more. He turned and briskly walked out, thankful to be alive.

* * *

"This is ridiculous!" The Baroness shouted as she tossed another file onto the stack the Tele-Viper had brought her earlier. She'd been poring over them for the last three hours and each time she thought she'd been suitably enraged; she'd open the next one. She bent over her desk and glared at the stack, willing them all to spontaneously burst into flame.

"Madness, sheer madness." She muttered through grit teeth as she thumbed a button on her desk. The floor slid away and a small oak cabinet emerged. She walked over to it and poured a glass of wine from the chilled cabinet and sipped it.

"_Perhaps you need a break."_

"Perhaps what needs breaking is a few necks. That would solve this problem instantly." She hissed, taking another sip.

"_If it were that simple, the Commander would have ordered it done. If he gave it over to you, death is simply not an option. At least, not yet."_ The Baroness returned to her desk and sat down.

"My dear Destro, you have not read these files." Her glass was set down and a file took its place in her hand. "An unstable explosives expert who managed to concoct an explosive capable of reducing an armored Cobra barracks to so much twisted slag from chemicals commercially available." She tossed the file down and picked up another. "A pyromaniac with the same destructive creativity. Firefly would be proud." She picked up another. "A sniper with insomnia and a temper that rivals the Commander's! I wouldn't wish these people on the Joes, let alone one of our own."

The holographic form of Destro bent over the desk and looked over the arrayed files as Baroness set the last one down and sipped at her wine angrily. It was times like this the Baroness cursed his metal mask, for his face was impassive as ever.

"_This… sniper. Her marksmanship is exemplary."_ He said after a long moment of silence. _"Similarly, the explosives expert is clearly outstanding in his field, if a little reckless. These men and women are genuine assets to Cobra. I can see why the Commander forwent his usual solution."_ Destro said as he straightened.

"Each one of them is currently detained. All of them are loose cannons. Are they truly worth saving?" she asked. Destro nodded, and the Baroness sighed.

"_Call him. This is what he was trained for."_

"Very well, but I do not have to like it."

"_No, but I'm sure he will."_ Destro's image flickered before the holographic projector died, leaving the Baroness alone in her quarters. She finished off her glass and leaned forward to press her intercom.

"Bring me, Carnage."


	2. It all rolls down hill

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hello folks. I didn't want to mar the first chapter with an author's note. I'm still fairly new to fan-fic writing. I hope you all enjoy reading this story as much as I do writing it. Questions, comments and critiques are welcome. I can't improve unless I'm told what I'm doing wrong or poorly. If you like my story, please feel free to share it with other like minded individuals.

* * *

The KRISS Vector, a closed-bolt delayed-blowback .45 caliber sub-machine gun. A newer design than most of what Cobra used, but it was definitely becoming a favorite of his very quickly, and word among the grunts was that Destro had already incorporated its design into their next generation of weapons.

Carnage liked the weapon. It was accurate without sacrificing stopping power. In one fluid motion, he turned, brought up the SMG and squeezed the trigger. He loosed a burst and tore a nicely grouped, ragged hole in his target. With a second to adjust his aim, he fired again, and again, until finally his gun click on an empty mag.

"Changing!" he shouted, as he pulled the magazine free and slammed a new one home in a few clipped movements. He dropped to a crouch and shouldered his weapon, and let loose a staccato of gun fire. Thirty-five rounds belched from the business end of his weapon and tore down range with a purpose. The patchwork of holes he'd put in the chest of the target, exploded into one large cavity that would've spilled a living person's innards in all directions.

Click.

Empty.

"Clear." He shouted, more out of habit than anything else as he ejected the spent magazine and set the weapon down. Kyle Sigmund pulled his hearing protection off and set it next to his weapon before wandering down range to his target. He rubbed his hand over his shaved skull as he approached and surveyed his damage. The target, a wooden cutout of a Joe whose name he didn't know, was shredded. Ragged holes were torn in target's chest and in the middle of its face, rendering its visage into so many splinters. Kyle smiled as he pulled the target down.

"Soon..." he muttered, as he turned and carried the target back.

"Sir, priority message for you from the Baroness." Kyle looked up. A Tele-Viper promptly handed him a printed sheet and stood at ease. Kyle briefly looked it over before shoving the mangled target into the man's arms.

"Dispose of this." He ordered as he stepped around the Tele-Viper. "Return my weapon to the armory. And get a VTOL fueled and ready to go."

"Sir!"

* * *

[_Several Hours Later_]

"We're in CTD airspace, sir. If you haven't seen it, now's the time before its cloaking field reactivates." The pilot's voice crackled over the Kyle's headset. He smirked and peered out the window as his curiosity got the better of him. His eyebrows rose ever so slightly.

The Chilean Terror Drome was everything that everyone had been whispering about. Massive on a scale that Kyle was more than a little impressed with. Bristling with weapons pods and Cobra sigils, and built right, smack in the middle of a mountain range. The VTOL whined as it descended over the top of the Chilean Terror Drome, a landing pad rising into view.

"Going down." The pilot called. Before Kyle could ask what he had meant the VTOL jerked as the landing pad beneath it retracted into the facility.

"Down and secure sir, you can disembark." The Air-Viper said casually as he went through his post flight checklist. Kyle unfastened his belt and clambered toward the door. He opened it and dropped down onto the deck, arching his back until it popped in a satisfying manner, grunting as his stiff muscles ached.

"Carnage, sir?"

Kyle turned, and eyed a thin blue-shirt trooper that quickly snapped off a crisp salute.

"What is it trooper?" he asked as he turned back to retrieve his duffel.

"Sir, I've been tasked with escorting you around the facility. It is still under construction and very easy to get lost." The trooper answered quickly.

"Take Lift C to the bottom level. At the end of the corridor is the Baroness's chamber. Don't hassle the bodyguards." Kyle said without looking back as he finished collecting his gear. The blue-shirt faltered.

"I… yes sir, that is correct, how did-" a beaten duffle bag was tossed at him. He caught it in both arms with a grunt and looked up at Carnage.

"Carry that." He said as he pushed past and started down the closest corridor. To his credit, the confused blue-shirt complied rather than questioned, and quickly hurried after the gruff, older man. The lift ride was in silence as it slowly descended multiple levels, and the blue-shirt's eyes were deliberately not looking in Carnage's direction. He smirked and patted his combat vest.

"You smoke?" he asked. The blue-shirt jumped.

"Y-yes sir." Carnage turned slightly and saw the man back up a step.

"Let me bum one. I'm all out." The trooper carefully set his duffle down and fished a hand into his pocket. He retrieved a rumpled pack and handed it to Carnage.

"Here you are, sir. Last one."

Carnage took the pack with a nod and tucked it into a vest pocket as the lift doors opened. He stepped out and turned to face the blue-shirt. He took his duffel and waved the trooper off.

"I'll take it from here. Thank you for the smoke." He said as he turned his back.

"Y-you're welcome, sir." He called as the lift doors shut.

* * *

Carnage shook the cigarette loose of its pack and placed it between his lips.

"You had better not plan on lighting that in my quarters, Carnage." The Baroness hissed as she leaned back in her seat. Carnage smiled and placed the offending item behind his ear instead.

"Wouldn't dream of it, Baroness." He said politely. "Now, what can I do for you? If you want me to transfer down here and whip the entire Terror Drome into shape, I'm going to need a raise."

The Baroness smirked and slipped the first file from the stack and tossed it to him. He caught it and flipped it open. Inside was a photo of a young woman. Her red hair was only just beginning to grow back after having it all shaved off for basic training.

"Kane, Dahlia." She said as a holographic display flickered into life between her and Carnage. "Recently promoted to Viper, Kane is one of the best snipers ever to join Cobra." The display lit up with the young woman laying prone, an anti-materiel rifle in her hands as she sited down range on a battered HISS tank.

"But?" Carnage asked. The Baroness sighed and punched a few keys on her desk. The image changed to a security video feed of Kane, still in her blue-shirt uniform, surrounded by three other troopers. She was battered and bloody, but still standing and the troopers around her appeared nervous.

"_I said attack! That is an order!"_ barked the drill sergeant. Two of the blue-shirts exchanged a glance.

"_But sir… she's… still standing."_ The sergeant entered the frame and grabbed the recruit by the front of his uniform.

"_And she'll keep standing until one of your losers can knock her down! Now get in there! All of you!"_ he shouted and shoved the soldier at the woman. The confused soldier turned the shove into a wobbly punch. The woman caught his arm and spun, yanking the recruits arm down hard over her shoulder. There was a distinctly audible crack and the soldier started screaming. The audio muted just as another soldier moved in for his attack.

"That's the problem." The Baroness said.

"What problem? She seems like a fine recruit." Carnage said. The Baroness laughed.

"That wasn't an exercise. That was the rest of her platoon attempting to restrain her. Apparently, one of her squad mates grabbed her inappropriately. She smashed his hand with her combat helmet. She most likely would have killed him if the platoon had not intervened. It took the butt of a rifle from the Viper that snuck up on her to finally take her down." Carnage smirked and looked back down at her file.

"So we promoted her to Viper?" The Baroness nodded.

"Yes, four months ago. After all, Cobra does not let such destructive talent go to waste. The hope was that her newfound responsibility would curb her temper. Or at least focus it. Such was not the case. Three weeks ago she fractured her hand punching through her commander's faceplate. She's been locked in the brig since."

Carnage smiled, closed the folder and set it aside to pick up the next. With it opened he moved it aside to open the next along with it.

"You seem to have given me a little taste of everything here. A tele-viper who rewired her communications gear to receive her home town's radio stations, a medi-viper that no one wants to let near them, and…" he paused to open the next folder. "Oh, this one's a gem; a blue-shirt who keeps finding himself in various high security areas without clearance." The Baroness nodded sagely at the last one.

"Simon Kutter. We thought he may have been a security risk, like one of the Joes' little infiltrators. But it seems he has a natural curiosity and lack of concern with the results of his actions. He simply broke in to a high security server farm because he likes a challenge and thought it would be fun. When security teams arrived on scene, he was very compliant. Turned himself over immediately only to escape from his cell an hour later. He was found in the mess hall, smiling."

Carnage smiled.

"Well, I can see why you called me in on this little job." He said as he neatly stacked the files. "I think I can work them into some proper soldiers. Given time, that is." The Baroness fixed him with a passive stare.

"The Commander will give you six months. After that he will not waste any more time on them." The Baroness said. Carnage allowed his brow to furrow in thought. That's half the time he'd usually need for such problematic soldiers. Either the Commander was growing impatient, or he was testing Carnage's mettle. Either way, he wouldn't back down and show weakness.

"It will be done." He said as he stood. "I'll need the Tubac facility for my training. And, of course, free reign to act as I see fit." The Baroness smiled and nodded, happy to have these problems out of her sight and thusly out of mind.

"Thank you, Kyle. I will have them transferred to the facility by week's end. Do try not to kill too many." She purred as Carnage picked up the stack of files. He paused and looked up at the Baroness once more.

"Of course, there is one other thing I'd like." He said, tucking the files under one arm.

"Which is?"

"I'd like a B.A.T. of my own. Not one of the mindless killing machines, but one that can think and act as my adjutant. I'll waive my normal fee for it."

The Baroness looked up at him and a smile slowly creased her features.

"I think that is fair. I will see what I can do, but you know how Destro gets with his little toys."


	3. Prompt Payment

**Location:** Tubac Facility

Tubac was less a facility, and more of a small town. Not unlike Springfield, the vast majority of the town was a false front. Underground it was another matter entirely. With a population of just under twelve hundred 'citizens' and an additional four hundred manning the hidden base at any given time, it was not the quiet desert town that its outward appearance suggested. Underground was where the heart of the facility lay. Spotless corridors, hi-tech labs and offices, training rooms and indoor weapons ranges. What more could a clandestine order such as Cobra ask for.

Kyle sat in one of the offices, his feet propped up on the desk. He sighed loudly, the noise quickly becoming a groan. He was tired, having been poring over the files he'd been given for hours, but it was a lot of data to go through, a lot of manpower.

The world would lie to itself. Any reports on Cobra stated that their numbers were in the hundreds, but in truth, it was in the tens of thousands. Mercenaries, criminals, and even average Joes who wished to provide for their futures and those of their families, to exact revenge on their governments or some faceless entity, or just to rebel against the norm. And Kyle was always given the scum at the bottom of the barrel to try and bring round to Cobra minimum standards.

For the most part he succeeded. His brutal training resulted in some of the best that Cobra had to offer. Those who failed washed out, and to wash out in Cobra meant one of two things. The first being death, the second being part of the Cobra Science Division's experiments. Neither was an exceptionally spectacular result. He stood, kicking a stack of folders over. He looked down and balled his hands into fists.

"_Verdammt …_" he swore. He kneeled down and scraped up the papers. His accent was almost non-existent, but when he was angry or stressed, it would resurface. He'd been born in Berlin, and when he was six his family moved to Arizona in the United States. His family was poor and, growing up, his mind was filled with thoughts of serving his country to better his life and theirs. But he never got the chance. His family was killed when a drunk driver had bowled into their dining room in the early evening and interrupted his family dinner with an SUV. He'd been found pinned beneath the table and the SUV, lying in the blood of his family. With no living relatives to contact he was sent to an orphanage funded by Extensive Enterprises. He'd been marked early on by the Crimson Twins as having potential, and when he turned eleven, he was adopted by a nice family from Springfield-

Kyle looked up, his trip down memory lane ended by a knock at his door.

"Who is it?"

"Delivery from the Baroness." the gruff voice replied. Kyle sat his folders on his desk and stood up. He thumbed his finger against the door pad and it slid open. Two of the Baroness' Vipers shoved him back and a third wheeled in a BAT on a dolly.

"Is that my new toy?" he asked, peeking around the Vipers. None of them answered right away, instead he was handed a clipboard.

"Yes sir, it's your re-purposed B.A.T." The Viper reached forward and tapped the clipboard. "Sign." Kyle shook his head and signed. The clipboard was snatched away and the Vipers promptly turned and left.

"W-wait! How do I turn it on?" he shouted after them, sticking his head into the hallway. He muttered angrily and shut his door when they didn't bother to answer his question. He looked the B.A.T. up and down. There was no obvious on/off switch and there was no included instruction sheet.

"Of course…" he said, rubbing his eyes again. He sat down on in his chair to think about other alternatives and before he had time to think he was asleep.

* * *

Kyle jerked awake suddenly, feeling like he was being watched. He looked around his empty office and relaxed slowly. He grunted and arched his back, feeling it pop in several places.

"Ugh, I'm getting too old for this…" he muttered.

"Yes."

Kyle jumped, drawing his boot knife in one swift motion and taking up a fighting stance.

"Who's there?!" he barked. He looked around at his still empty, still small room. He lowered his knife and rubbed his eyes. "I think I'm losing my mind." he chuckled.

"No."

Kyle's head slowly turned towards the corner of his office where the B.A.T. stood, its faceplate fixed in his direction.

"Was that you?" he asked, pointing the knife. The robot nodded its head.

"Yes." Kyle tucked his knife back into his sheath and exhaled slowly. He gestured the B.A.T. to come forward and sat back down. The battle android stepped forward and resumed its stance.

"What is your number?" he asked, pulling out a pen and pad to write it down. The robot remained silent. Kyle turned to look at it. "You do know your number, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Good, then what is your number?" he repeating, turning back to his pad. Again the B.A.T. remained silent. Kyle grunted and turned to face it again throwing his pen down in frustration.

"What's the matter? Can't you tell me?"

"No."

"Why not?!"

The BAT reached out and took the pen from the table and quickly scrawled a note on the pad. Kyle leaned forward and read as it wrote.

"No… programmed… response… What does that mean?" The B.A.T. tapped the pen against what it had just written. "So… what, you're not programmed to speak?" The B.A.T. shook its head. Kyle smiled and chuckled, pressing his fingers into his temple and rubbing it in circles. "That's…. that's kind of funny. You're clever Destro..." he said, standing and walking around the B.A.T. "Okay! So, you can't speak… save for yes and no, correct?"

"Yes."

"But, you understand me clearly, and clearly you can read and write."

"Yes."

"Good. So… you need a name. I simply can't call you B.A.T., or re-purposed B.A.T. Re-purposed battle android trooper… R-B-A-T… R-B… Arby… How about Arby?" he asked.

"No."

"You don't like it?"

"No."

"Well do you have an idea?" After a moment's pause the B.A.T. shook its head.

"Then until you can come up with your own, you'll have to go with Arby." Arby's servo's whined loudly and it turned and marched back to the corner it had been in.

"Oh come on, it's not that bad a name."

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Introducing my second OC, Arby. Yes, he will be keeping the name. He's a robot, he has no say in the matter. Also, _Verdammt_ means damn or damn it


	4. The Misfits Arrive

Kyle stepped outside and raised a hand to shield his eyes. The sun was blazing and though it was early, it was shaping up to be another scorcher. His new batch of recruits had arrived the night before, discreetly transported via an Arbco truck. Now they stood beneath a ramada, the only source of shade in the area. Each was dressed in a simple jumpsuit, the color denoting their place in the Cobra rank and file.

"Alright! Form up!" he shouted as he approached the group. The motley assortment of soldiers and specialists looked up from where they'd gathered, but no one moved. They looked Kyle over warily. Slowly, they returned to their conversations. He narrowed his eyes and sucked his teeth. Already he could see he was going to have his work cut out for him.

"Form up you worthless fools!" he shouted, louder this time. Again, no one budged. His eyebrow raised and he crossed his arms slowly. Perhaps he'd have to try something different.

"I said form up." he said again, quietly this time. The soldiers continued their conversations unabated. Kyle sighed and drew his pistol. In a quick motion he brought it up and put a round in the thigh of the nearest man. The soldier shrieked and dropped to the ground clamping his hands over the wound. The conversations died and all eyes locked on him.

"Oh good, you noticed me. Now that I have you attention, which one of you is…" he paused looking down at a clipboard he held in his free hand. "…Mallory Peebles?" he asked. A tall woman with long blonde hair raised her hand nervously. She was dressed in a light green jumpsuit.

"I… I am sir." she muttered nervously. Kyle smiled and holstered his pistol.

"Ah. Be a dear and see to that. Would you?" he said, gesturing to the bleeding man. Mallory looked to the injured man and then nodded before pulling her kit out and kneeling over him.

"Good, now, I am Carnage." He said, pacing back and forth in front of the gathered soldiers. "Cobra Commander has no use for worthless fools like yourselves, and it is merely by the grace of the Baroness that you are still allowed to breathe." Kyle glanced at the man he'd shot and gestured at him with a nod of his head.

"Except for Mister Kutter, it's the grace of Miss Peebles there that will determine whether or not he dies."

"No pressure, huh?" she hissed under her breath as she pulled a long pair of forceps from her bag and looked at the man. "Try not to wiggle. Or this will hurt more." she said moments before jabbing the instrument into the man's thigh. The man screamed and then passed out, allowing the woman to work in peace. Kyle winced despite himself and paused before continuing.

"Anyway, the Baroness has granted you half a year to prove yourself worthwhile to Cobra. That is why I'm here." Kyle stepped over Kutter's prone form and approached the group, watching several of them tense up. The biggest amongst them, a Python Patrolman, looked like he was torn between his fight or flight instinct.

"I will have the distinct pleasure of bringing you insubordinate wretches into line. If any of you are religious, you best start praying to your deity of choice now. Once you are down below, your souls belong to me. I will mould you into the type of soldier Cobra can use. Along the way, I will submit progress reports to the Baroness, and if she decides that your progress is not satisfactory…" Kyle turned and pulled his Viper helmet from where it was clipped to his belt and slid it over his head, his reflective red faceplate hiding his wicked grin. "You will disappear and cease to be a thorn in the Commander's side. Do we have an understanding?"

* * *

Once back underground, Simon Kutter had been deposited in the med-bay under double guard while Carnage ordered everyone else to the obstacle course. A large cavern had been dug into the earth, the floor of which was made of several mobile platforms that would raise or lower at his command. They could also open to reveal a water tank or a sand pit for people to traverse. It was all very hi-tech, but right now, Carnage used it to establish dominance of his new batch of problem children by running them ragged through its most simple course.

"Move your ass, Faulk! If I have to come down there you're going to regret the day you were born!" Kyle yelled from the observation and control tower. Byron looked up and gave him the finger as he picked up his pace. Kyle smiled and surveyed the rest of the obstacle course. Dahlia was climbing the third wall with ease and Mallory was right on her tail. Kyle hated to admit it but, for a medic, Mallory could really move. His eyes then fell on the Frag Viper in their midst as he struggled climbing a high wall.

"Watts! If you don't get your worthless hide over that wall I'll strap one of your little homemade explosives to it and launch you over!" Raymond Watts groaned loudly as he swung his leg up over the wall and used it to pull himself up, spitting curses the entire time.

"This sucks!" he grunted as he dropped down on the opposite side, landing in deep sand and struggling to lift his legs out and start up the next wall.

"Suck it up! You only have ten more laps!" Kyle shouted at him. "Arby, do you have the status report for me?"

"Yes."

Kyle turned slightly and held out his hand. A clipboard was deposited in it and he straightened to look it over.

"They're still not performing up to spec, are they Arby?" he asked.

"No." Arby replied. Kyle shook his head.

"They're valuable assets... and I know that if they could just maintain discipline they'd be a formidable force." Kyle turned and looked into Arby's faceplate. The B.A.T. said nothing.

"You don't agree?"

"No." it said, with a shake of its head. Kyle smirked.

"Why's that, oh wise and mighty robot." he asked mockingly. Arby pointed and Kyle turned to look at what he was pointing at. He groaned loudly and shook his head. Byron and Mallory were sneaking off the obstacle course hand-in-hand.

"Faulk! Peebles! Screw on your own time! Get back on the course before I get the hose!" he barked. Byron and Mallory turned slowly and sauntered back towards the course. Kyle turned to look at the B.A.T., its faceplate revealing nothing.

"_Halt deine fresse."_ he murmured.

"_Nein."_ the B.A.T. replied.

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Behold, the rest of my OCs. There's Dahlia Kane, Byron Faulk, Simon Kutter, Mallory Peebles, Raymond Watts, Denise Layton and a few more. They will be introduced and described better as the story progress. I promise I will make them more than just names. I will make them characters.

Translation: _Halt deine fresse._ - Shut your face.

_Nein_. - No


End file.
